Al Fine
by african water lily
Summary: My life is like a marching band show. I was almost done with the opener and then next thing I know someone jacked the ballad and the drum feature. Now the closer's looming on the horizon and I'm gonna get docked for having a show under 8 minutes."
1. Chapter 1

Al Fine

By African Water Lily

A/N: This is just a little something that popped into my head while I was listening to the judges' tapes from our last performance. Please tell me what you think so I can decide whether or not to continue.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations are completely works of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, or situations is completely coincidental.

One by one the band members trickled in, seating themselves on the floor or on wayward chairs or some hardy piece of equipment, conversing in hushed murmurs about the purpose of this mass meeting. Once in a while, someone would glance at the closed door behind which the powers-that-be were hidden. What was so important and so top-secret that somehow the band rumor mill had not gotten hold of it?

Most of them remembered a similar meeting, not even six months ago, called all of a sudden just before the end of school. Then, the director had informed them tearfully that she would be taking a position at another school. What now? Some of them hoped the situation was the same, that this new director would be leaving as well, for there was no love lost between the band and this… _replacement_. Just as people had begun to discuss that particular possibility, the door opened. The drum major and assistant came out together, followed by the band director, who was content to let the two students take the floor.

Joel and Kat. The Dream Team, as people sometimes referred to them. Partnered for over a year now, they were totally in sync with each other, Kat anticipating Joel's every need, supporting him unconditionally, while he constantly looked out for her. Now they were no different, walking out together, standing side by side, ignoring the director and surveying the group that was gathered to silently await their next move. Fifty pairs of eyes, friends, classmates, section mates, all watching, fully expecting Joel to step forward and make whatever announcement he intended to make. And all of them were more than a bit surprised when, instead, the younger assistant took the floor, still close to her superior, but far enough away to convey her intent. A couple of them recognized the look on her face, familiar from those days long ago when she was inexperienced and unsure of herself. It was fear.

"Is everyone here?" she asked, finally breaking the prolonged silence. There were a few glances around the room, a few "yeah"s, and then the room again faded into quiet. "Good. I want to thank all you guys for showing up on such short notice. It makes my life a whole lot easier." There she paused and took a deep breath, as though in preparation for something. "This… this isn't really a band thing. That's not why you're here. This is… um… this is personal for me, and let's face it- all the people I really care about are in this room right now." This drew a few smiles, but any chance at mirth was smothered by the growing apprehension in the atmosphere. "I-" her voice faltered, and she looked down at the ground. Then Joel was there by her side, a hand on her shoulder in a show of support. His presence seemed to bolster her failing resolve, and once again she looked out at the assembled group.

"Guys… I'm sick."

There were assorted gasps and furrowed brows throughout the crowd, which sensed that gravity in her voice, and knew she wasn't talking about the stomach flu.

"I… I have acute lymphocytic leukemia. And I wanted you to know, because… I need you guys. Every one of you. I need your support. You know my parents are getting divorced. My entire family is falling apart. You're all I have left. I hope I'm not freaking anyone out, but it's true, This band is the closest thing I've had to a family in a long time."

There was a pause and once again it was silent, the band members too stunned to speak.

"I need to apologize as well. Not an I'm-dying-I-don't-want-to-have-any-regrets apology. I need to apologize in advance for not being able to fulfill my duties as assistant drum major. I'm supposed to start chemotherapy next week, and I'm going to be in the hospital for a while. I'll try to be here as much as I can… but…" All of a sudden she trailed off, out of things to say, or maybe just out of breath from the disease.

Without warning, Kat's best friend broke the spell, stepping forward and enfolding her in his arms. The rest of the band melted as well, turning to discuss this mildly terrifying development, the general emotions being some mixture of shock and bewilderment. As people began to break off into their own small groups or go to embrace their sick drum major, one person did not move. He sat unnoticed through the commotion, preferring his private thoughts to the wonderings of his peers. But it was not shock, or worry, or sadness, or even some strange combination thereof that kept Tony Aiello motionless in his seat.

It was guilt.

* * *

So... yes? No? Yo? What?

I can almost kind of promise that it will get better. That is, if you want it to.

So... yeah. You should review it. Really. You should.


	2. Chapter 2

Al Fine  
By African Water Lily

Disclaimer: All characters and situations are completely works of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, or situations is completely coincidental.

Kat's POV

The second I stepped out of the director's office I could feel my resolve starting to weaken. The same feeling of apprehension that often affected me in my early days as assistant drum major was again creeping into my bones, threatening to freeze me where I stood. My throat clenched and I felt cold all over, as though my diseased blood was even now dying in my veins. My steps faltered as my joints grew stiff and uncooperative.

I couldn't do it. I was ready to flee, run from my responsibilities and let someone else deal with the consequences. Just when I could take it no longer, a comforting warmth began to spread from between my shoulder blades. Confused, and now breathing easily, I turned to look for the source- a search that stopped abruptly when my shoulder collided with Joel's arm. The arm attached to the hand on my back. Just then his head turned and his eyes locked with mine. Their familiar reassurance and his gentle touch imparted his sense of calm in me, as though I was somehow channeling his spirit. It was this spirit that held me together as I looked out at the faces of those I loved. This spirit that strengthened the words I forced from myself. This spirit that held back the tears as I trailed off into silence and all but collapsed into Max's familiar embrace.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, hurt and panic evident in his voice as he held me tight against him. "You tell me everything. How is this different? All those times I asked you what was wrong- you said nothing."

"Max. Max, please." I can't deal with him like this right now. "I'm telling you now. Isn't that enough?"

It wasn't, I could tell, but he did me the favor of keeping his mouth shut.

"We'll talk later, I promise."

He gave me one last look and slipped away. Before I could catch a breath multiple pairs of arms encircled my waist and squeezed uncomfortably tight. Four or five freshman girls had attached themselves to me as though the Grim Reaper was already here to take me and they wanted to anchor me to life.

"Calm down, guys. It's not like I'm dying or something. Um… not today, anyways." My pitiful attempt at humor only served to tighten their already viselike grip. Finally I had to pry them off of me one by one.

"Sorry…" said one sheepishly.

I grinned despite the gravity of the situation. "It's cool, just chill, yeah?" And to my relief, they nodded and were off.

Apparently, hugging the cancer kid was the order of the day. When I looked up I was in the middle of an impromptu huddle of concerned band members. My whole section mobbed me at once, four teenaged boys hiding their concern with overexuberance that would surely leave me covered in bruises within a few hours.

Somewhere during the flurry of people I looked over a shoulder and caught a glimpse of a dark-haired figure sitting broodingly in a corner, the memory of which was promptly shoved to the back of my mind by the caring, muscular arms of another dear friend. Thirty or so minutes later, as the last band members trickled off and left me alone, the image returned unbidden. With it came a flash of confusion and not a bit of anger as my mind identified the figure.

Three Weeks Earlier

The hospital's main lobby was cold, contrasting sharply with the warmth of the oncologist's office, but I was too distracted by the events of the last hour to notice. Tears stung at my eyes, running coldly down my cheeks, and I was powerless to stop them. All I could do was walk mechanically through the doors and out into the cool evening air, a montage of words and images playing endlessly in my mind's eye.

_Bruises, blossoming blue and purple just under my skin. The humiliation of waking up on the floor of my English class not even comparing to what I felt when a strange man answered my mother's cell phone. The ER. Vials of blood, x-rays and CTs, and the screaming pain of the biopsy needle hitting bone. Cancer. Acute. Chemotherapy. Prognosis. The doctor's office so empty with just the two of us._

And then, the overwhelming realization. My parents no longer cared enough about me to be bothered with news of my illness and even death. They didn't care. I was nothing to them. I couldn't breathe. Then I was choking, then crying, and then sobbing uncontrollably on a stone bench just outside the hospital's doors.

I don't know how long I sat there before the doors opened again, prompting me to lift my tearstained face from my hands. I definitely wasn't expecting to recognize the person I saw. Tall, dark hair, not much older than me. Tony Aiello.

We know each other. We're in the same band, the same leadership team. Hell, we spent a week together at jazz camp. So when our eyes met, I know he recognized me, but you wouldn't have known it from his reaction. I locked my red-rimmed eyes with his and held them, tears still rolling softly down my face. His eyes were cold, hard, uncaring. He looked away and walked off as though I had never been there.

I'll admit- I was hurt. I knew Tony was a self-centered asshole, we all knew that. But still, you'd think he might manage to pull his head out of his ass long enough to manage a greeting.

But he was gone already, on his way to the car where his mother not doubt sat waiting with a kiss and a peanut-butter cookie…

Present Day, Tony Aiello's House

Tony opened the door to his bedroom, kicking off his shoes and sitting down at his desk with his math book. He was just about to start his work when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A pair of white pants and a tee to match, freshly laundered and sitting on his bed, courtesy no doubt of his mother. His hospital volunteer's uniform. Momentarily, all thoughts of his math homework were forgotten as he remembered that day at the hospital.

Three Weeks Ago

It was nine o'clock at night. Tony's shift had just ended, and as soon as his supervisor signed off on his 5 hours of volunteering he was free to go. He picked up the log sheet and walked off in the direction of the exit. En route, off went his cell phone with a call from his mother.

"I'm on my way out," he said, wasting no time with greetings.

"OK, hon. I'll see you in a minute," his mother replied.

"Bye."

He ended the call just as he stepped into the nearly deserted lobby and crossed the white floors quickly. There was someone sitting on a bench just outside the glass doors. They looked up as Tony opened the door, reddened eyes staring up at him out of a familiar face. Kat Goldman, assistant drum major. Pain and fear emanated off of her in waves, and the look in her eyes was one of desperation.

Tony had no idea what was going on and no idea what to do. Here was someone he barely knew even after 2 years, looking at him like he was her only hope. He stared blindly back as his mind went into overdrive. Do it, don't do it. Help her, leave her be. Change things, let them remain. And the majority spoke.

He disengaged his gaze from hers and walked away, not looking back. With nothing but second thoughts he got into his mother's car and drove off in silence as he tried to understand what had just happened.

Why was she there? Why was she crying? He had no answers, but there was one question that he knew did not merit asking- where were her parents?

Tony, along with about half the band, had witnessed Mr. and Mrs. Goldman's shouting match in the parking lot after practice one night a week or so ago. They were separated, in the process of getting divorced. It was common knowledge now, and somehow it had ended with Kat crying outside the hospital in the dark.

What was going on?

Present Day, Tony Aiello's House

Suddenly it all made sense to Tony. She was sick, dying. She had just gotten the news that night, and had no one, and she had needed his help. And he had ignored her.

So many of his questions had been answered, but now there was a new one.

_What have I done?_

Review and I'll give you a puppy. Except not really. Wouldn't that be nice? Nice. You should be nice and click the little purple button. That would be nice, don't you think?


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